


Downfall

by prototyping



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Fight Scene, Gen, KH3 spoilers, if I could change just one thing about that scene..., ok that and I wish Ven had been playable rip, slight canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: —he’s too close now, far too close to let something as inconsequential as his emotions trip him up.[Vanitas, Aqua. My brief take on a certain KH3 scene.]





	Downfall

**Author's Note:**

> Canon: “—and then Aqua compromised herself by leaping in the way of Vanitas’ attack instead of using her weapon or magic—”
> 
> Me: “nnnnnah, chief”

Vanitas would have enjoyed this fight once, but this time it’s pointless. It’s a frustrating obstacle just like everything else has been, the World working against him as if such small inconveniences will do anything more than slow him down.

He wouldn’t mind as much if it was Sora. He’s been wanting to beat that optimism and naïveté out of him for a while now.

Terra would have been welcome, even. He would have liked to have a fair fight with him, just once, and see whose darkness is truly the stronger.

But of course it’s _her_ because it’s always her, her and that disgusting self-righteousness, that bloated ego that thinks she’s some kind of savior when she’s really the most pathetic of the three.

In Vanitas’ mind she’s nothing, and for someone who’s _nothing_ to keep on stumbling into his path like this—

—it’s _infuriating_ —

—but luckily for him that anger is also nothing. He thrives on negativity. It focuses his attention and makes him think more clearly, and even if it didn’t, he’s too close now, far too close to let something as inconsequential as his emotions trip him up.

Or a broken, arrogant Keyblade Master.

She seals the room with a Barrier spell and he smiles, even if she can’t see it.

She makes the first move— _hasty, hasty_ —and her body’s a little faster, her strikes a little a harder, but she’s still the same opponent from thirteen years ago, a proverbial blink in his mind's eye in comparison, and Vanitas could laugh at the familiarity, even thank her for it. Her magic is vastly improved and dangerous—one direct hit could kill him on the spot—but at the same time it's reassuring because all he needs to do is get past it.

And it’s easy.

He lets her dance around and sizes her up, patiently biding his time while her impatience only grows. She moves faster, increasingly eager to end this, but it’s energy she shouldn’t be wasting.

Vanitas waits for the opening, finds it, and turns on a dime to hurl a rapid Fission Firaga straight at Ventus’ ever-sleeping form. The wall protects him, of course, but the second and third castings that immediately follow leave their mark, promising cracks splitting over the smooth surface.

Logically, he can’t just seize Ventus and bolt—he would have done so before—but she doesn’t consider that. She only sees her precious friend in danger, _in need_ of her heroics, and her heart of light cripples her far worse than Vanitas could.

Of course she panics. She hastily moves to interrupt his trajectory and her Keyblade cuts through the air and his magic, a new sense of urgency in her movements and resentment in her bright eyes. He casts once more and she blocks with her weapon, the force of it pushing her back a step, and it’s almost too easy because now she’s angry and she isn’t like Vanitas—anger makes her weaker, not stronger. Now her focus is divided between concern for Ventus and hatred for Vanitas and that foolish pride she claimed for Sora, all while fire continues to tear at her hands with every stubborn deflection because she used too much magic, too fast, and now shielding Ventus and her dignity with her body is all she can do. She’s forced back against the wall, chest heaving and fingers singed and eyes frantic, too emotional to think straight—

Vanitas darts in low. She could easily avoid the swing but she’s reluctant to move, determined to protect that breach in her line of defense. She tries instead to lock Keyblades but the angle is bad and he has the advantage; in raw strength he wins and his blade rips up over her thigh, the opposite hip, and the crystal plates of her Barrier are suddenly splattered with crimson and it’s almost as rewarding as her frustrated cry.

Even now she fights, as a cornered animal always will: her free hand forces a spell, aimed point-blank at his chest, but Vanitas’ harsh fingers snatch her wrist and redirect the blast of ice over his shoulder.

That was her last chance: he drives his knee into her soft gut. She doubles over, breathless. He’s too close to take her head off with a proper swing, so he settles for smashing his elbow into the side of her face. She drops at his feet, deadweight.

She’s only dazed, but it’s enough. The pathetic shouts of Sora’s group barely register in Vanitas’ mind; he’s already switching his Keyblade around to a backwards hold, both hands on the hilt as he hoists it above her chest. Her nose is bleeding and her lips are red as they mouth Ventus’ name, but she’s half-conscious at best and there’s nothing to stop him from finishing what he should have thirteen years ago.

Until his heart gives an agitated beat of recognition—and an instant later he hears the Barrier shatter like glass, loud and furious.


End file.
